Black Roses
by Grimjawa
Summary: When there's a death in the family, two members of Mystery Inc. must return to the one they never wanted to set foot in again ... they're home. A One-Shot in my Dropkick Clique series, done by request for arashi wolf princess.


It was like white noise, the preacher's words. Fred had no idea if his sermon was captivating or not, he couldn't hear the sobbing of family members and friends of the Blake clan either. It was like watching a funeral from behind sound-proof glass, unable to do anything to help, unable to console. He couldn't even comfort those around him, people he'd known for years. Sitting beside him, sobbing into a handkerchief as if this was her last day on earth was Ms. Blake, face hidden behind waves of messy blonde hair, cascading down as she quivered uncontrollably, whimpering, choking on her own muffled cries and yelps. She was a wreck.

Unable to look upon her any longer, he rose from his seat and tried to squeeze out of the pew, excusing himself as he shuffled by mourners. He made it out to the isle, and made a beeline for the exit, softly walking up the red-carpeted floors, hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark-blue suit pants. The familiar and comforting feel of a half-empty pack of cigarettes against his fingers reminded Fred of a bad habit that he was trying to kick.

Slithering out the door, he was met by a wind that chilled him through his clothing, all the way down to his core. Fred was already cold, feeling a little lonely surrounded by the family of someone closer to him than his own kin. The winter wind, nipping against his face, although painful, was miniscule in comparison to the shared ache that he and his closest friends shared when the news came to them…

Fred slipped the pack of smokes out of his pocket as he came upon the parking lot. Putting the butt of one of the nicotine sticks between his lips, he began to pat his pockets, in search of the lighter that'd kept his company since he left his hometown. He couldn't bring himself to get rid of the steel, vintage fire starter, just kept refilling it when the need, and his habit, reared its ugly head again. Looking around, he still had trouble believing he was back. Never had Fred really intended to return to the small, quaint, quiet, suffocating, claustrophobic, restless North Carolina city of Starkville. The blonde private investigator loved being on the road, on the move and staying anywhere for an extended period of time just didn't feel right. He felt … itchy, contained in this town. That was one of the many reasons why he left in the first place.

It wasn't until the blonde found the square lighter in his breast jacket pocket and pulled it from the confines that Fred noticed. She sat on the hood of the silver Jaguar F-Type, staring up at the heavily clouded sky hanging above her head, looking to be stuck in the gravitational pull of her own little universe. She was aware of nothing around her, not even Fred's approaching presence. Daphne hadn't said a word to him for the past several days, really since before the two of them arrived back in Starkville.

She was cloaked in a tight all black dress that fell short to the middle of her thighs, her pale skin, as white as snow, contrasted against the deep, solid black of her dress and boots. The long red tresses that she'd had fro so long were nowhere to be found, replaced with a tightly styled pixie, dyed blue. She absentmindedly kicked her crossed legs, one of the tells of just how deep she was in thought. Fred did his best not to sneak up on her and scare the emotionally fragile woman as he approached.

"Hey … 'Red'," he said, coming to her side at the vehicle's hood.

It took a while, but his presence was acknowledged, and Daphne slowly turned her head to him. She stared blankly for a few moments before returning her gaze to the sky above. "I don't think you can call me that anymore…"

Joining her on the hood, he replied, with a chuckle, "Eh, it's gonna' be too difficult to change your nickname now… I mean, we'll have to send in the proper forms, there are promotion companies that need to be contacted, and on top of all of that, Pepsi will have to take down all the posters of you they have hanging above freeways everywhere! Too much work, Daph…"

"Yeah. How is it inside?"

Shrugging loosely, Fred replied, "As you would expect… a lotta' crying, a lotta' people wondering where the Blake family crown jewel wandered off to…" He fired up the cigarette between his lips, and took a long, overdue drag.

Pulling it from his mouth and exhaling a breath of smoke, he noticed Daphne watching him out of the corner of his eye. Pulling another drag from the cig, he then handed it off to his cobalt-haired companion, which she accepted with a thankful smirk. She needed _something_ to take the edge off, and a cigarette was the easier than driving up to the nearest liquor store, buying as much as she could and getting twisted off of her ass in a church parking lot. A cigarette was much easier…

"I should probably thank you for volunteering to come with me back to this … hell. I know you didn't want to…"

"Well, none of us would've come back here by choice. And we couldn't let you come here alone. Just wasn't right…"

Daph handed the smoke back over to the blonde before sighing. "How's my mom doing?"

"Not good. Might be good for her beloved daughter to have a heart-to-heart with her…"

Daphne hesitated, uncrossing and switching her legs, suddenly uncomfortable. "I wouldn't even know what to say to her, Fred… I haven't spoken to the woman since we left; I haven't spoken to either of them…"

"They obviously missed you. Did you see your mom's expression when you and I showed up at her place?"

"I saw…" She brought her knees up to her chest, and held them close. "… She looked at me like … I was her daughter. The same way she looked at me the morning before I ran away without a word… I'm a terrible daughter, Fred. She doesn't need me."

"She needs you more than you think, Red. You're their only kid. Your mom loves you and your dad loved you right up until the day he died. And if you didn't run away, then Mystery Incorporated would've fallen apart long ago." Thumping the nearly burned out smoke onto the asphalt, Fred then added, "You've done good work, and helped a lot of people, Daph."

"No. _You've_ helped a lot of people, Freddie. You, Velm, Shag, Scoob… All I've done is stand by, looking on in aw. It's felt like watching a movie, the past few years. Velma is a supercomputer with tits, I've seen Scooby has better instincts than any animal creature I've ever seen, your leadership is the only thing that's kept us alive, even Shaggy pulls aces out his ass on a regular basis. I'm nothing but the ditzy, accident prone, easily kidnapped redhead…"

Lying back on the hood of the clean, sparkling luxury vehicle, Fred exhaled deeply, allowing his shoulders to relax a bit. Smiling to himself, he asked, "Daph, you remember that time when we entered that game show, pretending to be a family to catch a serial killer?"

"Family Fumble…"

"Yeah. Velma was our team captain, and one of the suspects on the enemy team decided to push her buttons…?"

"Cynthia Synclaire… I don't know what was going through that chick's mind, but she'd definitely picked the right psychopath to push…"

"Well, we were beating her team four-to-one… The point of the story is, if you hadn't been there to reign her in, Velma would've pulled that bitch's jugular right out of her neck and blown our whole investigation."

"All I did was talk to her, Fred."

"Do you not get it? You're the linchpin that keeps our mostly-merry band of misfits. We all would've either wound up going our separate ways, or dead by now, if it weren't for you."

"Blind luck, Fred… Just blind luck…" Daphne remained quiet for a good while. She lay back on the Jag's hood, reaching her hand up towards the darkening sky. "D'you ever feel … like it's all just slipping through your fingers?"

"Hm?"

"Like … like one day, you're just gonna' crash and burn…? And it's all gonna' … fall away."

"Daph…"

She smiled somberly. "One day … one day, one of my fuck-ups is going to get all of us killed." Daphne turned her extended hand back over, looking at her palm contemplatively. Her eyes ran down the length of her arm, at the tattoos she'd collected over her time traveling with Mystery Inc. The largest was that of a snake, spiraling up her arm from her shoulder, ending at the back of her hand with a black rose bursting from the serpent's open mouth. It was one of her favorites, done by an artist in Washington as a favor for helping him with a case. "Every time I mess up, we come closer to the abyss, closer to death's cold embrace…"

"Daphne, stop…"

"Face it, Freddie-poo. You don't need me-"

"Alright, that's it," the blonde said, sitting up and walking around to the driver's side of the Jaguar. "Toss me the keys. Now."

"Fred…"

"Daph, the keys. We're going for a ride."

Reluctantly, she obliged and threw him the key. Throwing open the driver side door, he hopped in the coupe` and started her up. Daphne joined him in the passenger seat, curious as to just where they were going. The look in Fred's eye, it was a familiar one – he had an idea in that head of his. Usually, his ideas were hit-or-miss, but he was always able to pull it together in the end, somehow, so she wasn't worried.

Throwing the shifter in reverse, he slammed on the accelerator and whipped out of the church parking lot. He cranked the radio up, blaring Guns N' Roses' _Knocking on Heaven's Door_ as they ripped down the straight, two-lane street. Daphne watched the speedometer's hand slowly climbed the dial, unable to hear the sound of the vehicle's engine roaring over the loud music. She smiled.

"You remember our first year, Red?" Fred asked over Axel Roses' voice.

"Yeah…?"

"We all fucked up, a lot. A lot… There were times where I was the reason we almost bit the dust. Shaggy's pulled his fair share of dumbass shit… There's no reason for you to feel that Mystery Inc's short comings are your fault. We're all to blame, but our kinks are what makes us gel. It's what makes us all friends. If you remember correctly, the reason we came together was that we were each ostracized from our school's cliques and groups. That shared feeling of outcast is what caused us to form this company. If just one of us leaves, Mystery Inc. is no-more."

Daphne stayed quiet the entire time. Her emotions were running wild, and so were her thoughts. Instead of fighting with them, struggling to deal with them, she just stuffed them down, refusing to acknowledge them at all. Booze, nicotine, she'd even go for a blunt right now, and she wasn't even one to smoke marijuana, but anything to ease her mind was welcome. Unfortunately, Shaggy, Velma and Scoob were still in Atlanta, finishing up a few sudden contracts, which is why they couldn't make it to the funeral, and the former had all of the herbs with him, unsurprisingly…

"Freddie, where are we going?" Daphne asked, watching through her window as familiar sights flew by them.

"We're gonna' go get blitzed off our asses, babe!"

"What about the funeral…?" she asked with a grin.

"Shit… they'll be alright without the Blake family crown jewel for a little while…"

"And it's the middle of the afternoon, where are we gonna' find an open bar?"

Looking over at her, resting his arm on the console between them, Fred replied, "The Fred-man always has a plan in his back pocket…"

As they turned down a familiar street, Daphne raised her brunette raised her eyebrows, but stayed silent. Just as she suspected, the turned into the Jones driveway, a two-story home on a nice, quiet street, with a pool. It was a quaint little home, but one that left a bad taste in Fred's mouth, Daphne knew.

"Fred, why are we-"

"I told you, we're here to drink. My dad keeps a store of booze Miranda has no idea about. The good stuff…"

Looking up at the home, Daphne wondered what Fred was feeling, just being there… "We don't have to, y'know. We can just go back to the church, if you want."

Fred walked up to the front door, reaching up to feel around its frame for the spare key. While feeling for the spare, he glanced down at the welcome mat with his family's name on it and smiled. Kneeling down, he lifted the brown mat up, revealing the small silver key beneath. "Miranda, you are just too easy…"

Unlocking the door, he and Daphne entered, greeted by Miranda's dog Chance. The Jack-Russel terrier looked at the Blonde curiously for a moment, then seemed to recognize him and began to jump up and down excitedly. Fred pet the dog on the head, realizing just how long it'd been since he'd been … home. Looking around, he figured no one was home, so he let himself in, Daphne and Chance trailing closely behind. He made a beeline for his father's liquor cabinet in the den, knowing that it was never locked because it was frequently used.

As the blonde opened the cabinet door, Daphne reluctantly asked, "So … have you been in contact with your folks?"

"Nope. I still keep up with Miranda, though. She texts me every now and again to see how we're doing… Even if one of my parents tried to contact me, I don't think I'd respond…"

"She still working as your dad's assistant?"

"He's prepping her to take over his position in the firm… They're apparently spending a lot of time together now."

"That's nothing new…"

"Right?"

He grabbed a bottle of vodka, and two glasses. Filling them both to the brim, he handed one of the octagonal glasses to the cobalt-haired woman. "Cheers," she said, accepting the drinking and throwing half of it back with ease. She hissed at the burn she experienced as it went down.

Grunting as he swallowed a good portion of his, Fred picked the bottle back up and said, "Let's go out onto the deck."

Chance pranced happily behind the duo, ball in mouth, as they ascended the stairs to the second floor and stepped out onto the wood deck. Once back outside, in the lessening cold, the two started to relax: the stresses of Daphne's father's funeral, of Fred being back in the home of the family that he was trying to escape, it all disappeared, leaving two friends and a lot of booze. They stared out at the back yard, stretching out before them, grass perfectly trimmed thanks to the gardener that came by once a week.

Leaning against the wood railing, Daphne expressed with a sigh, "I wish the others coulda' been here…"

"Me too. Nothing's the same when all of us aren't together," Fred agreed.

The wind picked up for a moment, blowing over them and chilling the duo briefly before returning to normal. Shaking the chill off, Daphne swallowed the rest of the vodka in her glass and inhaled deeply. Exhaling tiredly, she sat the glass down at her feet, stood still for a brief second and then began to speak…

"Fred, I probably don't say this kinda' shit as much as I should, and I know I don't show it, buuuut, I hope you know that I love you guys. This isn't the vodka, talking either. I do care about each and every one of you deeply, and would die for you without a second thought."

"We know, Red… We know…"

The woman shuffled closer to Fred. She suddenly threw her arms around him and squeezed tight. Reciprocating the gesture, he could feel her shaking in his arms. He said nothing about it, just continued to embrace her.

Whimpering into the chest of his suit jacket, she said, muffled, "Thank you for coming, Fred… Thank you so much… I needed someone here with me… I couldn't do this alone. I couldn't sit there and look at daddy in that coffin and momma crying… I just couldn't. I would've fallen apart without you…"

Fred struggled to keep his emotions under control, for Daphne's sake. "You know we're all here for you, Daph…"

Taking her face away from his chest, she looked up at him, wiping her tears and running eye makeup away. Smiling, she said, "Thanks, Fred … for everything."

He smiled back down at her.

"Ahem…"

Both Fred and Daph turned towards the doorway. Standing there, in a pair of leggings and slippers, a thick book underarm and a grin on her face was Miranda, his father's protégé and soon-to-be successor. The dirty-blonde curiously raised her eyebrows at Fred, pulling her reading glasses from her face.

"Well, well, look who decided to pop-in…" she remarked.

"It didn't look like anyone was home … so I let myself in."

"I see that… And I see you've brought a friend…"

"Yeah. You remember Daphne, right?"

The pale-skinned woman waved with a smile. Miranda waved back and said, "Of course I remember Daphne. How've you two been?"

"Okay, more-or-less."

"I'm sorry to hear about your father, sweetie."

Smile growing, Daphne nodded graciously. With that, Miranda shot a look at Chance, and the pooch scurried back into the household, following the unspoken command respectfully. She then turned on her heels and said, Well, I'm heading back in; it's a little too cold out here for me… See me before you leave, Fred!"

Turning back to Fred with a bright, amused grin, Daphne bit down on her bottom lip to keep from laughing, and said, "I think Miranda might have the wrong idea about us…"

"I think you might be right… You ready to head back to the church?"

Sighing, Daphne shook her head…

"Then, what the fuck do we do now?!"

Fred's phone began to chirp loudly, like a bird on a drunken bender. He slipped it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Unlocking the device he began to read the email received silently. After a few seconds, Daphne finally asked, "What is it?"

"Well, it looks like … we've got a job in town."

Tilting her head and sticking her tongue out, the woman replied, "Really, now?"

"Someone keeps hitting shops in the West Fields area. No one knows who, or how, and any traps set are avoided… Sounds like it's right up our alley, huh?"

"Fuck yeah!" roared Daphne. She grabbed Fred's hand and pulled him back into the house with a surprising amount of force. "Let's catch us a thief…"


End file.
